


Lost in the Snow

by divagonzo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Weasley Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-23 03:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3752572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divagonzo/pseuds/divagonzo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas Eve 1987 and there is a rare snow in Devon. Seven year old Ron Weasley can't find the scarves, mittens, and earmuffs he was responsible for when he went out to play. He comes in and faces his mum for losing his things. (Some Romione but later)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by the Academy Award winning cartoon called _The Milky Way,_ about 3 little kittens and the mayhem they get into after they lose their mittens. The Lovely and quite talented coyotelaughingsoftly knew the cartoon too and thought I had a brilliant idea. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter (along with Ron Weasley and the entire Weasley Family) belongs to JK Rowling and Scholastic Publishing. No money is being made off of this writing and no copyright infringement intended. Jo did say I could play in the snow with them next time I'm in Devon however. - _DG_

* * *

It was a rare snowfall but Molly Weasley had other plans for her sons. Lessons still needed to be learned and books read for the older boys. Unfortunately they annoyed her to frustration, especially since she had her hands full cooking meals and taking care of Ginny. Dinner needed to be prepared and the curtains probably repaired again since Ginny was in her room with an unfortunate case of Dragon Pox.

Instead of listening the twins whine about how being in the house was boring, she shoved hot Cornish pasties into each of their hands and sent them out into the back field for an hour or so. 

Ron was the last one out the door, being bundled up by his Mum in his mittens, hat, and scarf to play with the older boys. Before he closed the door behind him, she told him that she’d call for them to come in a little later. He heard Ginny crying because she couldn’t go outside to play either. She was stuck in her room since she was still sneezing fire and the cold would only make it worse. 

That didn’t stop him biting into the pasty and running to catch up with his brothers already throwing snowballs at one another out in the field. 

Sides were picked for the impromptu snowball fight, with Bill, Percy, and Ron against Charlie and the twins. They hooted and hollered and yelled at one another while bombarding each other with the wet snow that had fallen. 

* * *

“Boys! Come in and wash up! Dinner’s almost ready!”

Her six sons, ranging from 17 to 7, ran from the open area near the orchard towards the house. 

“I know I put them down, right here.” Ron looked up and saw Bill motioning for him to come in. “Mum’s gonna be mad.” Ron straggled in, soaked from head to toe from being pelted. Bill tried to keep the twins from targeting him but it was for naught. The only upside was that they were soaked too. Percy had a decent arm when he wanted to use it. He used it today while trying to protect Ron from their onslaught. Bill stood in the doorway to shepherd the rest into the house. He kept a watch on the youngest one, ignoring the sneaky looks from the twins as they ran up the stairs to their bedroom. 

“Alright there Ronnie?” 

He stepped inside while Bill closed the door. “I think so.” He took off his hand-me-down jacket and stomped his boots to knock the grotty snow and caked-on mud from them. “Wish they’d quick picking on me.” 

“We tried to keep them from it,” Bill helped him out of his jacket and soaked jumper. “Go wash up and dinner’ll be ready. You might want to throw on a warm jumper too.” 

He ran off to wash up like Bill asked and soon returned to the dinner table. The smells were so enticing after playing in the snow for an hour. The hasty pasty he had wasn’t enough after playing in the cold with his brothers. 

“Is Ginny still sick?” Charlie finished putting down the silverware for the eight places. It was Ginny’s responsibility, putting the dishes and silverware down on the table before meals. But since she was confined to her room for the time being, Charlie stepped up. 

“She’s still sneezing and setting the curtains on fire. I‘ve charmed every surface of the room but she’s still making the curtains smolder, even with the cracked to let the smoke out.” 

The other heads nodded. 

“Charlie, did you start a load of laundry in the scullery?” 

“Sure did. I just need the clothes from Ron’s room and the twins for the next load.” 

“I’ll get that down right after dinner,” Percy chimed in. 

“Good,” Molly replied while finishing up dinner on the cooker. She turned and pointed her spoon at the twins across the table. “Bathroom cleaned?” 

“Yeah, Mum, we did it before we went out,” George answered as he came into the room with Fred right behind him. 

“You scrubbed the tub too? You missed that yesterday.” 

“Yes, Mum, Dad watched us scrub the tub this morning,” replied Fred. 

Molly looked over the tops of the remaining heads and looked at the coat rack by the back door. “Where are all the hats, scarves, and muffs I sent you out with?” Molly pulled her wand from her apron and twisted it in the air. Six jackets stood out in the air along with five sets of mittens but she saw only 3 stocking hats, three scarves and three sets of fluffy earmuffs. “Ron, did you bring in the things you took outside with you? Did you get the other hats, muffs, and mufflers? We’re missing hats, and scarves, earmuffs and a set of mittens.” 

“We took them off to play. They were too hot out in the snow,” George chimed in first. “Yeah, ickle Ronniekins forgot to bring out things,” Fred added immediately. “We left them right where he put his down.” They turned to him across the table. “What were you thinking? You left our stuff outside, you forgetful git.” 

“They weren’t there.” Ron whined to his Mum. “I looked all around where I put my things down. I didn’t see any hats and scarves and earmuffs.” Ron saw the smirk on Fred’s face. “You moved them, hiding them to get me into trouble. I know you did it.” He glared at them across the table. “Stop picking on me.” 

“Don’t blame us for losing our stuff. We didn’t move a thing. You misplaced them and didn’t bring it all back in. That’s your responsibility – to bring the things back in from outside. You know that.” Fred smirked. “Everyone has chores to do. You heard Mum.” 

Molly turned and put the bowl of beans on the table. “Ron, you know what you’re responsible for. Everyone helps around the house, even Ginny when she’s not sick. Now go upstairs and stay there ‘til I come up for you. You didn’t do as you were supposed to do so no pudding for you after dinner.” 

“But Mum! It’s not my fault! They hid my hat and earmuffs and scarf.” He pointed across the table. 

“Don’t blame us,” George chimed up. “You know Mum’s rules and you know what you’re supposed to do. Your job is to put away everything left outside or bring it in.” 

“That’ll teach you to take your things off outside, you prat!” Fred cheeked at him. 

Molly pointed the spoon in her hands at her youngest son across from her. “We can’t afford to replace everything that gets lost. Do you understand that? Yarn is expensive and replacing things because of your carelessness is irresponsible. Now upstairs with you until I come get you.” 

Arthur finally spoke up. “Do like your mum said.” 

“It’s all your fault,” Ron cried and ran from the table and up the stairs as fast as he could. 

Molly turned back to the stove to get the roasted chickens, mashed parsnips, and buttered peas. She also brought out loaves of baked bread and potato cakes. 

“Now go on, tuck in.” 

“What about Ron?” Percy perked up from the seat furthest down the table. “He’s hungry too.” Percy put his head down to not look at his Mum. “It’s not fair.” 

“Percy, hush!” Charlie hissed from across the table. 

“It’s fair that he has chores and responsibilities in this household like everyone else.” Molly addressed her children, hands on her hips and a frown on her face. “He has to learn to be responsible. Losing things I worked hard to make for you is carelessness. We can’t afford it. So maybe if he misses a meal with his family he’ll be more careful next time he’s out playing with the rest of you.” 

Molly turned back to the stove and missed the other brothers giving the twins a fierce glare. 

Bill punched Fred in the arm and Percy cuffed George. “You did this,” Charlie hissed from across the table. 

“Enough,” Arthur spoke up. “Tuck in.” 

He sat watching his sons do as he told them before tucking into his dinner. 

* * *

“It’s all their fault!” Ron threw himself onto the bed crying. He beat his fists on the bedding and screamed into the bedclothes. “They’re the older ones, not me! It’s not fair!” Ron thrust his face into his pillow and yanked it over his head. “I hate them,” he screamed into the pillow. “Everything’s their fault.”

Only the twins could make his life harder, making him miss dinner when he was so hungry. He hadn’t eaten in hours and breakfast this morning was eggs, cheesy toast, and rashers. He was lucky to eat the last one before Fred took his last piece of cheese toastie. _‘Gotta eat quicker, Ronnie.’_

Even the pasty lasted a few before his stomach was rumbling again. 

Only they’d make it his fault that he didn’t get their things too and bring them in. 

“I didn’t lose their things. They took them. I looked. I didn’t see their stuff, or mine either. They lost Mum’s pink fuzzy earmuffs.” Ron kicked the bed again overflowing frustration and anger. “They hate me. They’re so mean to me.” 

Ron shoved his fists into his eyes. “It’s all Bill’s fault. He should have noticed when I came in without them,” he rationalized. “Bill should have helped me look.” But he ran in thinking he’d get them tomorrow morning. 

Anger bubbled up inside him, demanding to get out. But Mum would put her spoon on his head if he was tearing up his room. But he had to do _something!_

Ron heard the crackling of the ice hitting the window of his bedroom. He lifted his head and saw the snow falling harder. “I’m going to go out there and find those things. I’ll show them, those two. Mum’ll make them give me their pudding for getting me into trouble.” 

Ron opened the window and saw the snow falling. It wasn’t that cold and it wasn’t that far down to the ground. He knew where he needed to look for his things. It wouldn’t take long, just long enough to pick all the things up and bring them inside. 

He climbed out the window and slowly scaled down the side of the house. He put his feet on each crevice to make his descent without getting hurt. Slowly, he made it to the roof of the first floor and jumped down into the snow crusted garden. He stood up and looked into the window of the den and saw the rest of the family still eating at the dinner table. “I’ll show them.” He took a step and slipped just a fraction on a spot of ice he hadn’t seen. 

Anger kept him warm while he took off running towards the edge of the orchard where they had been playing. 

He checked where he put his things down. It was a set of rocks by the edge of the pond, close to the edge of the orchard, and near the field was where they were playing. Nothing was there. Ron checked all the stones around the pond and didn’t find a thing. 

He ran back towards the house to check the top of the chicken coop. It wasn’t there either. He stomped around everything he could find, trying to see anything bright orange, or obnoxious pink, or even bright yellow. He had no such luck. Too many footprints in the snow made it difficult to know where they had played. 

Ron ignored the cold along with his shaking hands and numb toes. Finding their things was the mission today. He had to find them before he could go back inside. 

He returned towards the edge of the orchard and started checking the base of the trees. He took a step and tripped on a covered tree root. “Argh,” he growled from being covered on his jumper and trousers with snow. He put his bare hands out and felt the ice on the exposed roots burning his hands. He cursed like Charlie did and stood up, soaked on the front of his clothes and angry at everything. 

He trudged around more of the trees, trying to find their things. 

His continued search was fruitless. 

“What did you do with them?” he begged. “Bloody hell guys! Where did you hide our stuff?” Ron looked around once again in the open area and couldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary. He trudged through the grotty snow in the middle of the field trying to find their things. 

He had no such luck. 

“If I were Fred, where would I hide our things?” He shivered through his jumper but couldn’t go back into the house, not before he had their things. He started walking around the trees in the orchard. The wind was less back there but the snow was deeper on him, coming close to his knees. “I can’t give up, not yet.” 

He saw one lone orange mitten on the ground under the back side of the lone oak tree. He looked up and saw the treehouse. “You slick git. How’d you sneak it up there?” 

Ron ran through the deep snow to the oak tree and picked up the orange mitten. It was crusted from the snow and ice and crinkled under his blue tinged fingertips. Only Fred would be so slick, hiding their things up there, up in the treehouse. Of course George covered for him. 

It was the only place left where their things could be hidden. 

He climbed the wood lashings up, trying not to slip on the slick wood. He pushed open the hinged door and pulled himself up onto the wooden floor. Sure enough, there were the missing scarves, stocking hats, and bright earmuffs – Orange, yellow, and Pink. Ron pulled them to his chest and held onto them while the shakes rattled his teeth. “Maybe I’ll sit here a while and warm up before heading into the house.” He shoved his cap onto his head and smiled to himself. The shakes went away almost immediately. 

For some reason, the room spun just a little when he turned his head too fast. “Whoa! Wicked.” He moved his head again and felt his head swim from the movement. He sat on the floor of the treehouse and heard his stomach grumble. “Don’t worry. We’ll get some chicken shortly.” He looked around the cozy space and saw some moth-eaten blankets in the corner along with a grubby cloak. Ron put his head in his hands and waited for the treehouse to stop spinning. 

“I think I’ll take a nap,” he said to himself before putting his head down. He fell asleep clutching the hats and scarves. 

* * *

“Ron, come down for supper.” Molly turned back to her own plate and finished eating the last slice of bread on her plate. The rest of the family was in the den, sitting in front of the fire with Arthur while he set up the chessboard. She’d go upstairs shortly with Ginny’s dinner of chicken cottage pie and some chocolate pudding.

She strained to listen to the lack of noise from the stairwell. Molly shook her head and put her wand to her throat. “Ron, come down for supper,” She bellowed a second time. 

“Problem Mum?” Percy asked over the top of his book he was reading for pleasure. 

“Percy, be a dear and go get your brother from his room. I don’t want him missing dinner.” 

“Yes Mum.” He bookmarked his place in the book and went up the stairs towards Ron’s room. 

Molly picked up her plate and put it in the sink, setting it to wash along with the rest of the dishes from dinner. After those were finished she’d wash the dining room table and then sit down with a cup of tea and darn more socks for the boys. Once the youngest were in bed, she’d listen to the wireless for a little while before retiring for the night. 

Percy came back into the kitchen with a puzzled look on his face. “He’s not in his room and he’s not in the bathroom.” 

“Did you check the other bedrooms, or our wardrobe? He’s been known to hide in there on occasion.” 

“I’ll go check to make sure.” Percy ascended the stairs to check the rest of the rooms of the house. 

Molly was putting the dishes away when Percy returned. “He’s not in the house, Mum. I’ve looked everywhere. Ginny said she’s not seen him or heard him since he tore up the stairs crying a half hour ago.” 

Molly turned and looked out onto the fields behind the house. She didn’t see a thing out in the snow. 

“Arthur?” Molly walked to the doorway of the cozy den. “Ron’s not in the house.” 

“Did you look?” 

“Percy did. He said he’s checked the house and Ron’s not in it.” 

“Even our wardrobe?” 

“Yes, Dad, I checked there too.” 

“Under the beds?” Charlie added. 

“I even checked under his bed. That was disgusting but Ron wasn’t hiding under it. He’s not in the house.” 

“Bill, you and Charlie go check the yard. Maybe he’s in the shed or the broom closet.” 

“He’s not in the broom closet. There’s spiders in there.” Bill looked Percy and frowned. 

“I don’t care, just check and see if you can see him outside.” 

The oldest sons went to the kitchen to grab their coats and head outside into the snow. 

“Where could he be, Arthur?” 

“Let’s wait a few until Charlie and Bill come back in with him. We’ll ask him then.” 

Molly looked at the rest of her sons and saw them looking anxious. 

“Mummy, I’m thirsty!” 

Molly looked up at the ceiling and heard Ginny calling for her again. “I’ll take care of her but let me know when they come back in.” 

Arthur nodded while his wife toddled off to see to their daughter in her room. 

* * *

Molly came back downstairs a short time later and saw that Bill and Charlie hadn’t returned from outside. “Where could they be?”

“I dunno sweetheart. They should be back any second.” 

Sure enough, the back door rattled on the hinges and the snow crusted young men stepped into the house. “He was outside but we couldn’t find him. At least we think he was outside in the field. There are tracks all over where we were playing earlier but there’s no sign of him at all.” 

“He couldn’t have fallen into the pond, could he?” Molly’s face went ashen white. 

“No, Mum, we checked that first. Bloody cold that was!” 

Arthur stood up and looked around the room. “I think I know where he is.” 

“Where would he be, Dad?” Bill inquired. 

“Someplace safe.” Arthur stepped to the doorway. “I’ll be back in a tick.” 

Arthur pulled his wand from his pocket and cast a warming charm around him. He didn’t have far to go, not out to the treehouse. 

He stepped out into the snow and cast another charm, to clear a path towards the lone Oak tree on the edge of the orchard. It’d been there years, given how gnarled the branches were. Sleet was falling harder as he walked along the path to the tree, making a small covering on his footsteps in the crunchy mud under his shoes. He picked the oak tree for the treehouse since it was the only one sturdy enough for it. 

Arthur stopped at the edge of the clearing and saw small footprints in the deeper snow. He stopped and looked up to the boards that made the sides of the structure. The wood slats were magically lashed to the trunk, holding it in place better than any rope or nail ever could. His son was probably up in the treehouse, hiding from the family. “He’s just like I am,” Arthur muttered to himself before pulling his wand. _Homenum Revelio_ , he cast the spell upward towards the interior of the treehouse. Sure enough, Ron was in there. 

Arthur put his hand on the first lashing above his head and climbed the rungs up the side of the tree up to the trap door in the floor. He pushed gently and climbed into the treehouse. 

Sure enough, Ron was tucked into the corner, near the trunk, clutching the missing articles of clothes in his small hands. Arthur could only shake his head in consternation at what stunt his son pulled today. “You’re lucky your Mum doesn’t hang you by your toes for this,” he muttered before uttering a warming charm around the enclosure. He cast another on Ron’s jumper and hat, watching the color return to his pale cheeks and ghost white hands. Ron lifted his head. “I’m cold, Daddy.” 

Arthur leaned over to pick his son up onto his shoulder. Ron’s stomach protested the lack of dinner. Even at 7 he was gangly, with hands that would eventually dwarf his own, if he could guess. 

Ron stirred once he was on his shoulder. “I found them.” 

Arthur stuffed the remainder into his pockets. “Yes you did.” He cast another warming charm on them, feeling the steam rise off of Ron’s damp jumper. 

“Told you I didn’t hide them.” He put his head back down and fell back asleep. 

“No, you didn’t.” Arthur shoved the last set of earmuffs onto his own head. He knew Molly would be amused later when she saw him wearing her Pink earmuffs that George borrowed today. Once he knew he had everything including his son, he gripped the wand tightly and spun. 

They landed with a thud outside of the chicken coop, covered in snow. Arthur struggled to his feet lifting the 4 stone son on his shoulder before he went into the house. He walked into the kitchen and locked the door behind him. 

“Oh my word! Put him on the couch in front of the fire.” She pointed her wand at the fireplace and had a roaring fire going in a second. “Bill, Charlie, get more blankets. Percy, go make a kettle of tea.” 

Arthur took him off his shoulder and laid Ron down on the magically cushioned couch and tucked the first afghan around him. “Where was he?” 

Arthur turned to look kindly on his wife. “I’ll answer that once Bill and Charlie are back.” 

They all stood quietly until Bill and Charlie returned with additional blankets and Percy had a kettle of tea in his hands. 

“He was in the treehouse, asleep, after he found their things in there.” He turned his gaze on the twins who shrunk back from their father’s stern look. “You two should be ashamed of yourself, pranking him like that and then blaming him for it. You know better, don’t you?” Two heads nodded quickly. He stole a glance at his wife and saw the upset on her face. He’d have to talk with her tonight after the kids were asleep in their beds. 

“We looked everywhere for him. Both of us.” 

He turned to Bill. “Next time, cast _Homenum Revelio_ to see if he’s hiding where you can’t find him.” 

Bill nodded but kept his face stoic. Arthur turned back on towards the gathering. "None of you can be careless with him. We’ve told you boys that, repeatedly." 

"We didn't know he'd go outside and go look for it in this weather,” Charlie interjected. “That’s barking!” 

"Why aren’t you mad at Ron for acting impulsively?" 

Arthur turned to Percy who had asked the important question. 

“Mum and I will deal with him, together, once we know he’s fine. Had we been another half hour looking for him, it might have been too late.” 

Arthur turned his scowl on the twins. "That was a dangerous stunt you pulled. You knew he'd go back out there, didn't you?" Two heads bowed under his interrogation. Neither one would answer the question. "You know he gets a head of steam and has to do something about it, even if it’s reckless. You can’t treat him that way and not expect him to take it forever. Got it?” All of the sons nodded in understanding. “He’s your brother, not a bloody house elf you can kick around for amusement. Did you think it was funny to blame him for what you did?” 

“No, sir,” two voices echoed. 

“Yes you did, otherwise you wouldn’t have done it.” 

Fred and George looked at one another and cringed in contrition. 

“You’re grounded for the rest of the week.” Two heads nodded again. “Ron gets your pudding since he found your things. You also will apologize to him in the morning, at breakfast. "

“Yes sir.” 

Arthur looked at his youngest son sleeping on the couch. He’d settled in comfortably and was snoring softly. 

“Now, off to bed with you. I don’t want to hear a peep out of you tonight, understand?” 

“Yes, sir.” They scampered out of the room and up the stairs to their bedroom. 

“Bill, check on them later, please. Charlie, Percy, all this goes for you, too. Look out for him as best as you can.” 

“Yes, sir.” The remaining sons went upstairs to their own rooms. 

Arthur walked into the kitchen and saw Molly putting biscuit dough on a sheet. “Baking so late, dear?” 

“It’s just a pan of biscuits for Ron when he wakes up.” 

Arthur poured some tea and sat down. “Ron’s gonna give me more grey hair than I can afford.” 

“No, I’ll have the grey hair. You’ll just lose it.” 

“Hush, witch. I don’t want to lose more than I already have with those sons of mine.” 

“How is he?” 

“Snoring like a sleeping Dragon. He’ll probably not wake for a while.” 

Molly pulled the plate from the cooling cabinet and cast a warming charm over it. “Well, when he does wake, he’ll be famished. This’ll tide him over ‘til breakfast.” 

“And the biscuits?” 

“These are all for him, too. I shouldn’t have blamed him for it.” 

“But we did and we have to work on not doing that again.” 

“But he’s got to take some responsibility. He needs to help around the house, just like the other boys do.” 

“I know. But he shouldn’t be responsible for the twin’s behavior either.” 

Molly sighed further. “Those two will drive me barmy if they’re grounded in the house the rest of the week.” 

Arthur grinned. “I’ll help keep them out of your hair some. Cleaning the chicken coop at half six will suffice as extra chores this week, along with cleaning the broomshed.” 

“Alright.” 

Arthur stood up and kissed Molly gently on the cheek. “I’m going to set a charm on him, to wake me when he gets up. Once you’re done here, come to bed. I’ll get up with him.” 

“How will you handle it?” 

Arthur smiled. “In my own way.” 

* * *

Ron woke with a start. He was tucked under some blankets in the den. He sat up and saw he had fallen asleep on the couch in the den, with a roaring fire to keep him warm.

He puzzled at that, since the last thing he remembered was finding their things in the treehouse. Nothing made sense from what he could remember. 

His stomach grumbled and was thirsty too. “I’ll get some biscuits and juice before bed.” 

He walked through the dark house into the kitchen and saw three plates on the table under warming covers. He lifted the first one and saw a heaping portion of chicken, buttered peas, potato cakes, and beans. Bread and butter were under the other cover. All he needed was a tall glass of pumpkin juice and he could tuck in. 

He poured a glass from the carafe in the cooling cabinet before tucking into his dinner. Almost immediately he had cleared his plate, leaving the buttered bread for last. 

“I wondered when you’d wake.” 

Ron dropped his fork on the table with a start. Dad walked into the kitchen and sat down in his seat at the head of the table. Ron watched cautiously as Arthur put his own tea cup and saucer down on the table. “You gave us a right scare today.” 

Ron put his head down and tried to stifle the tears that threatened to fall. “I know I’m grounded for what I did. That’s fine.” He kept his head down so he wouldn’t see the disappointment on his father’s face. “But I told you I didn’t lose our things.” 

"I know. I'm not mad at you." 

Ron barely looked up to see his Dad smiling at him. 

"But you do need to tell people when you go off and do something dangerous. Your brothers checked the pond for you. You scared your Mum. You scared me." Arthur pulled his wand and floated his cup and saucer over to the sink. “You came close to dying today, son. Don’t do that again.” 

Ron nodded before Dad came over and wrapped him in a hug before he went back to the rickety stairs to his bedroom. “Oh, Mum also baked you a plate of biscuits while you were sleeping. Those are for you, and no one else, not even Ginny.” He smiled and ascended the stairs. 

Ron turned back to the third plate, the one he originally ignored and opened the lid. Sure enough, chocolate biscuits wafted out from the cover. And since Dad said they were for him, he nicked the entire batch and stuffed them into the front of his jumper. They’d be safer in his room if not his tummy tonight. 

* * *

**11 years later…**

Ron put on his coat, hat, scarf, and mittens. Unlike years past, when Mum would knit him a matching set in the most garish of colors, Hermione knitted this set for him as an early Christmas present. She was bored one night and started a hat. One night turned into two when she made the mittens. A third and fourth turned into the scarf he wrapped around his neck. This set was a handsome shade of blue, just for him. Brown accents the color of her eyes under candlelight made it endearing. 

Everyone else in the house was jealous she made him a set but he couldn’t be arsed. His girlfriend spent her precious time making him a gift that no one else received and that alone made it priceless. Of course he was quite enthusiastic in showing her how much he appreciated her gift. 

Ron closed the kitchen door behind him and made the slow walk out through the snow covered garden. He had in his pocket a small token, courtesy of the same brilliant yet barmy girlfriend, made for him with no questions asked. 

Each step weighed on him but it wasn’t because of the dusting of snow and ice or the mud left when he melted a path out towards the oak tree. His path was well worn, almost intuitive, but then he could make this walk in his sleep. All the Weasley kids could. 

He passed the pond on his left and kept walking. His destination was one he didn’t want to make, but he’d do it this year, to honor the git who made him who he was, good and bad. He was still sad, mourning his loss but he also wanted to honor the prat in his own way. 

The quiet out on the edge of the orchard gave him solitude to think and reflect. Each shuffled step replayed those last moments, along with plenty of others. Many memories held tears and some held laughter. 

Ron stopped under the edge of the Oak tree and looked down at the headstone lying under it. He didn’t need to read it. He remembered some of that day in May, making the flowers dance around Kingsley’s head, before storming off. He didn’t need to hear the drone of the minister’s voice that day, talking flowery words about his brother. Fred would have hated such somber words. 

Instead, Ron hated them for his lost brother. He hated the sodding bastard who made his Father cry and his Mum still weep from time to time. 

He mostly hated that one day was the worst and best day of his life. 

The day they laid Fred to rest was the day that Hermione made love to him for the first time, and the second too. That day in May and the memories from it were complicated and still difficult to fathom, much less understand. How could it have been the worst and best day of his life? 

Ron stood there in the snow, ignoring the words engraved on the marble, thinking about how much he missed the tosser known as his brother. He tried to ignore the token in his pocket but felt the same sized lump in his throat. 

He reached his hand into the pocket and felt the wool felt through his mittens. Only his girlfriend would make this for him. Only his girlfriend, his lover, would make this him without asking why. She just did as he asked. She was patient with him now, giving him time to muddle through his words and actions and feelings. They still rowed from time to time, and bickered often. But his one simple request – one ginger colored mitten – was granted without comment. 

Then again, in the last few months, he’d come to realize how giving and selfless she really was, especially when it came to him and his needs. In some ways, she was much like the arse he was thinking about. 

“Ron?” 

He didn’t turn. He didn’t need to. He knew that voice better than his own nowadays. One small hand slipped into his, mitten to mitten. He didn’t need to see that she was wearing a complimentary set that she knitted, brown with accents of blue, coordinating to his own. 

She didn’t say a word when he pulled the gift out of his pocket. A gift that his best friend, girlfriend, lover, knitted just for him. Maybe someday he’d tell her about all the torments and pranks that they pulled on him. Maybe someday, in the quiet Sunday mornings when it’s just the two of them sharing warmth and intimacy that he’d explain. 

It wouldn’t be today. 

Ron stepped forward and brushed the snow off of the top of the marble stone. The cold seeped through the yarn of his mittens. He’d intentionally avoided using a warming charm on his clothes today. He wanted to feel the cold today, even if his heart was bursting with the fires of love coursing through him. 

Ron laid the ginger colored mitten on top of the headstone, leaving it there in lieu of flowers or other mementos that wouldn’t mean a thing. 

Ron squeezed the shared hand and turned to his best friend. A question was on her face even if it hadn’t passed her lips. 

“Cold?” 

She shook her head. “Warming charms,” said Hermione. 

He saw the redness of her nose, either from the cold or holding back her own emotions of the solemn moment. The bottoms of her ears were red too, probably from the cold. 

“Well, I am. Let’s get inside. I want some biscuits and some of Mum’s roast chicken.” 

The couple turned and made their way back towards the house, leaving the ginger mitten behind. 

* * *

**A/N2:** My thanks to Drappleluv and Babblingblog on Tumblr for the additional suggestions of Cornish Pasties and the local color of West country in Devon and Cornwall. Thanks for the additional information and suggestions!


	2. Baby it's cold outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Hermione talk Fred on the walk back to the Burrow after Ron's walk in the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Merry Christmas and Happy Boxing Day! - _DG_

* * *

“Well, I am. Let’s get inside. I want some biscuits and some of Mum’s roast chicken.”

The couple turned and made their way back towards the house, leaving the ginger mitten behind. He was quiet, the only noise outside broken by his dragging trainers on the slightly muddy ground. 

“You’re too quiet. Care to share what’s on your mind, dear?” 

They crunched through the rare snow on the orchard. Snow had fallen twice since that day so many years ago, where he nearly died while trying to make things right. Blamed for losing mittens when he hadn’t lost them in the first place was only now a decently fond memory, not the first examples of irrational anger he felt coursing through him. 

“I was thinking about Fred. You know, he was a right foul git, sometimes.” 

Hermione kept quiet while Ron walked alongside her, letting his muddled thoughts sort themselves out. 

“He was mostly nice to you, probably because you reminded him of mum so much.” Hermione stifled a small laugh at his comment. “But he was also a tosser, at least to me, growing up. Sometimes I hated the sod, mostly because he’d tell me I was too young to play with them, or that I wouldn’t understand what they were scheming, or that I’d break something important.” His ears turned bright red at that particular admission. “All I wanted was to play with them, growing up, but they wouldn’t let me. Percy was boring and Charlie and Bill were too busy being cool to really spend any time with me.” 

Ron turned up the path in the snow for a short distance before turning towards the mostly abandoned tree house. “Some days, I wanted to throw a plate at his big head, for something he said or did. I didn’t do it, mostly because I thought Mum would banish me to the chicken coop and I’d not get to play Chess with Dad that night.” Ron shoved his hands into his pockets, looking out over the orchard towards the pond yet clearly lost in thought. “It only got slightly better when I came to Hogwarts and I made friends who weren’t my family.” 

Hermione smiled, recalling that rather fateful day in October so many years prior. She ignored the prior 2 months when she was terribly lonely in her new world, one full of terrible wonders. 

“You know, Fred’s the reason I was able to actually start talking with you, like I wanted without sounding like a tit, before we went off with Harry.” 

“Howso?” 

“He and George gave me a copy of _12 Failsafe ways to Charm your Witch._ See, they knew how much I cocked up things by you, with Lavender, and they didn’t let me live that down. Oy! They were brutal that Christmas. I also thought Charlie was going to thump me into the ground for mucking things up by you. I know I don’t talk about it, but that was a pretty rubbish Christmas.” 

Hermione kept quiet while letting him talk. She wouldn’t speak of her miserable past Christmases without Ron. 

“But when I broke it off with Lavender, and they heard about it, probably from Ginny, they set me straight away, so I wouldn’t muck things up. That arrogant git tested me on some of the material, but it wasn’t like I wasn’t going to read it. I wanted to be with you, even if you’d only have me as a friend, but they said I just needed to grow into my trainers some and act right.” 

“Fred didn’t say that.” She stared at him. “He’d never be so rude.” 

Ron smirked. “No, but that was the gist of it. And he was rude to me, sometimes. His comments were rather more _colourful_. But I took it to heart and learned up on it.” 

“I think it worked.” She smiled but he frowned at her. 

“Mostly, ‘cept the part of walking out on you and Harry. There’s not a day I don’t think about how I hurt you.” 

“Ron,” Hermione stepped closer and hugged him to her, “I already forgave you. I hope someday you’ll forgive yourself.” 

“I’m still working on it. That’s why I’m busting my bollocks to prove it, to myself and you and Harry.” He looked out on the snow covered orchard. “I’m not there, yet, just like I’m not over losing Fred, either.” 

She hugged him tighter and he reciprocated, smelling the smoke from the fireplace in her stocking hat she made for herself. 

“I want to make you proud of me. That’s why I’m working so hard. I want to be worthwhile for you.” 

“But what about yourself?” 

“That’ll come, Hermione.” 

“Ron,” she pulled back from his grasp and he saw the joy on her face, “I already am. You don’t have to prove it to me. See, you returned. You saved Harry, and me. There’s nothing else to prove, dear. I’m with you because I choose you.” 

“But I – “

“Nonsense, dear. This isn’t about proving worthiness to be with us. That’s what you feel, but it’s not true.” 

“So how can I not feel that way? Surely you know.” 

“I actually don’t. But I know what I feel for you, and that you deserve so much, and that my love isn’t dependent on you being useful to me.” She pulled a face and he reacted immediately. 

“I never thought of it that way.” 

“You needed to hear it and that’s the truth, at least for me.” 

Ron pulled her closer and leaned back against the tree. His trainers were starting to soak and he’d need to take them off shortly and warm his toes by the fire. 

“You know my Auror training officially starts after you return to school.” 

“I know. You’re going to be terribly busy, doing that and working with George.” 

“I won’t have time to write every day, not with studying and paperwork and drills. I’ll be lucky to have time for a shower and a meal most days.” 

“You don’t have to. I’ll write to you, though, so you don’t feel so overwhelmed. And if you’re hungry, get Mum to feed you, at least.” 

Ron hugged her closer, feeling the itchy wool of jumper on bits of his skin and how chilled she was but not complaining in the least. 

“This term is going to suck dragon’s balls.” 

Hermione stood up on her toes and kissed him chastely on the cheek. “I know. I’m sure I’ll be barmy too, studying for the NEWTS at the end of the term. Revisions will probably get the best of me.” 

“But once it’s over, we can start living again, right?” 

“Possibly. You’re going to be busy and I’m sure I will too. But do you want to make a go of it?” 

“You have to ask?” He leaned over and kissed her, none too chastely. “I want more than just a go.” 

Hermione blushed. “You sure?” 

“‘Course I am. But I’m not proposing, at least not yet. But I will, sooner than later.” He grinned. “I want to do it right, and do by right by you.” 

“You already have. I’m waiting on you to realize it, love.” 

He kissed her again, warming her face with his mitten covered touch upon her chilled skin. “I will, with your help. You know a bloke needs a few trial runs to get things sorted.” 

“I know. Not everyone makes the right choice the first time.” She smiled warmly at her lover. “But I’ll be happy to help you with the revisions.” 

“You’re funny. Now, shall we go in? I dunno about you but it’s cold outside.” 

“Mum’s probably worrying where we are.” 

Hermione smiled at the accidental lyric from Ron. “I doubt your father is pacing the floor, though.” He looked boggled at her comment. “Dad doesn’t pace.” 

“N’ermind. We’ll go in and get you warmed up.”

Ron pulled her into his arms, draping his arm over her shoulder before they started the trudge to the house through the grotty snow of the orchard.


End file.
